Girls, let's face it, I was raised Catholic, where a funeral means a viewing, a Mass, a burial, noshing afterwards, and maybe a quick screening of "The Song Of Bernadette."
I had never been to a Jewish funeral service in my life, but after talking with Monsieur, I am not sure if what I was at yesterday actually was.
For starters, I had to suffer PTSD by spending most of the day in suburban Jersey!!!!!! Heeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllpppppppp!!!!!!!!! For another, there was nothing distinctly Jewish about the service. It was distinctly sad. The deceased was younger than I--56--and died of a heart attack at work brought on, it would seem by a combination of genetic predisposition, weight, a fondness for cigars, and a back breaking daily commute by car--from Monmouth County to Long Island City, NY, each day. This would do anyone in, dolls!!!!!!!!!!!
I also did not realize shopping was a part of the tradition. Imagine my chagrin, when we ended up, after the service, at a nearby Lord and Taylor. Our host, Larry, found some fabulous buys, girls, and let me tell you, he really knows how to shop!!!!!!! But Monsieur and I were not in a shopping mood, not did anything we see jump out at us!!! And you know how particular I am about my designers, darlings!!!!!!
It was a full day, and when we crawled home at 6PM, we were both physically and emotionally exhausted. But Spring is on the way, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!! La Sacre De Printemps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Toute de suite, darlings! Toute de suite!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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